


Caught a Chill

by in_a_blog_in_the_ground



Series: One-Shots [6]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Total Fluff, a big fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_a_blog_in_the_ground/pseuds/in_a_blog_in_the_ground
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from Bofur1:</p><p>I thought it would be cool if kid!Gimli were sick with something small and Glóin is like freaking out like "AAAH he's gonna die" and all that, then Óin comes to check him out and is totally a boss and makes everything better. ;P So like cute and funny prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught a Chill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bofur1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/gifts).



“Achoo.”

The tiny sound brought Glóin running in from the front room, his boots kicking up flecks of rock from the bare-floored hallway as they pounded down its length.

“Careful he doesn’t catch a chill, dear,” his wife Daedra had said before leaving that morning. They had recently arranged to have alternating days at the forges in order to take care of baby Gimli; Daedra fully recovered from maternity rest and more than eager to return to work, missing the solid feel of a hammer in her hands. It was Glóin’s first day watching the baby on his own, and already it was going wrong.

 _No no no no,_ he thought as he swung through the corner to the baby’s room, _Careful he doesn’t catch a chill, she tells meh, and what have Ah done?! AH’VE LET HIM CATCH A CHILL._

He threw open the door with a crash and cast about wildly for his son.

At first shocked by the noise, Gimli whipped his head towards the door, tiny face scrunched up, prepared to cry, but when he saw the familiar figure of his father, the scowl morphed instantly to a smile and he reached for the rail of his crib to pull himself up, a recently learned skill. He burbled a happy noise in greeting, a thin trail of snot dripping from his nose unheeded.

Glóin gasped, and rushed to the side of the crib, scooping his child up and clasping him close to make sure he was still there. Indeed, so small was Gimli that he was half-lost in his father’s immense beard. He giggled at the hair ticking his cheeks, and tugged at the small mat of braids on the side of Glóin’s face.

“Och, mah poor wee laddie! Dunnae worry now, dunnae worry, Daddy is here, Ah’ve got yeh, mah son,” Glóin’s terrified gaze met Gimli’s delighted one. Playtime had apparently come early for the dwarrowling. He snuggled deeper into the tresses of Glóin’s warm beard.

“There, there. There, there, Ah’ve got ye,” Glóin cradled Gimli gently in the crook of one arm as he frantically rummaged in a low chest with the other. He pulled out the thickest, warmest cloak he could find: a vast, matted thing that was a gift from Dwalin, bought from traders who had come from the far reaches of the unnamed North-lands, woven from the hair of creatures none of them had ever seen. Glóin carefully wrapped the babe in the cloak until all that could be seen of him was the small, pink circle of his face. To Glóin’s horror, a tiny “achoo” echoed from the depths of the garment.

“No’ even this?!” Glóin was on the verge of panic now. The bundle wriggled gently in his arms as Gimli futilely tried to free himself, his face devolving towards a frown as he was unsuccessful. To Glóin’s dismay, Gimli began to cry, fat tears welling up and soaking into the wool around his face.

 _Óin,_ Glóin thought suddenly, _Óin will know what to do!_

Whirling, he made for the front door, Gimli still wailing piteously.

On the way to Óin’s apothecary, people ducked left and right to make way for Glóin, no one wanting to be unfortunate enough to cross into the path of the wild-eyed, fiery-maned dwarf barreling through the streets with a squalling babe in his arms.

Glóin burst into the apothecary, the silver chime on the door almost breaking as it smashed into the wall. The commotion was loud enough that Óin heard it clearly, even from the back room where he was mixing ingredients. He emerged from the room, the heavy stone pestle he had been using held ready in his hand. The scene he beheld made him no less confused.

“Glóin?! What are ye-? Is that Gimli? What’s the matter wid him? Why’s he makin’ such a din?”

“Óin! Brother! Ye have t’help meh! It’s wee Gimli! He’s, he’s, he’s-” The running combined with the growing panic in Gloin’s chest caught up with him at once, and he doubled over, gasping.

“Well, c’mon, spit it out! Oh, fer pity’s sake…” Óin swiftly returned to the back room, and came back with a tumbler of water, which he traded to his brother for the baby. “Here. An’ give ‘im tae me, afore ye drop him!” His tone miraculously changed once the dwarrowling was in his arms. “Why hello, mah lit’le laddie, ‘oo’s a wee fat babby den, eh? Och, dunnae cry, dunnae cry, Uncle Óin’s got ye, here we go, and up!” Óin gently tossed the bundle into the air, ignoring Glóin’s saucer-sized eyes and reddening face. In the middle of the cloak, Gimli squeaked happily, tears forgotten.

“Now, let’s get ye out of this- Glóin, what is this? Is this that yak-hair cloak cousin Dwalin gave you fer yer nameday last year? What are ye tryin’ tae do, _drown_ the child? Bleedin’-“ Grumbling curses, Oin set Gimli down on one of the examination benches and unwrapped the cloth. Gimli gave a relieved sigh when he was able to move his limbs again, and celebrated by flailing madly.

Glóin leaned over Óin’s shoulder. “Look, look, look, his nose is runny, an’, an’ he was sneezing earlier, an’- ÓIN! Are ye listenin’ tae meh?”

“Yes, yes, o’course Ah am, innit that right, lit’le Gim’?” Óin grinned as the baby grabbed his finger and waved it around, clearly not paying attention to his brother. “Ayyye, that’s a laddie!”

“Aah!” Glóin suddenly pointed to Gimli’s hands. “Why, why are his hands red?! Does he have a rash now too? Óin, do something!”

Óin turned around and grabbed his brother firmly by the shoulders. “Glóin. Stop shouting. There’s nothing on his head, and yes, Ah do think you’re being a bit rash! Now, Ah’ve noticed his nose is a little runny, and he has some redness on his hands and cheeks, though Ah rather think that’s more from the cloak than anythin’ else. Ye dinnae need tae wrap him so tightly, especially if he has as sensitive of skin as you. Ah should have somethin’ for that too... But honestly, Glóin, ye have nothin’ tae worry abou’, it’s coming on winter now, a lot of children have been gettin’ a wee bit sniffly; why, Lady Dis brought the princes in jus’ the other day…” Óin’s voice absently trailed off as he went behind a counter to look for medicine. “Ah, here we are.” A vial of tiny white pills was produced, and Óin carefully poured a few into a small paper packet.

“What are those supposed tae be?” Glóin suspiciously eyed the vial as he re-wrapped his son for the trip home.

“Mold,” Óin replied matter-of-factly. He failed to notice his brother’s eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he continued, “Grind one of these up once a day and mix it in his milk. He should be fine by the end of the week! An’ what did Ah jus’ say about the cloak?! Glóin, sometimes Ah almost think _you’re_ th’ deaf one, dinnae listen tae meh…” Grumbling some more, Óin loosened the wool around Gimli’s face, and gently pulled his arms free, to the relief of the child. He rewarded his uncle with a quick tug of his curling mustachios.

“Ow, careful there, Gim’. Here’s your poppa, there ye go,” Óin transferred the child back to his father, along with the packet of medicine, and a small jar of ointment for his skin. “Glóin. Everythin’s fine. Ye really shouldn’t be so high-strung. Mother always said-”

“Ye don’ need tae bring Mum intae this, ye know,” Glóin looked petulant for a moment, but suddenly sighed heavily. “Ah…Ah jus’ want tae be a good father. Ah never thought it’d be so hard, that Ah’d be so worried about everythin’. Da’ jus’ made it look so easy…”

Óin’s smug smile softened at his younger brother’s words and downcast expression. He laid a hand on Glóin’s shoulder. “Yer a good father Glóin, jus’ like Da’. He would be so proud of you, Ah know it.”

Glóin smiled gratefully. “Thank ye, Oin. Fer the medicine too.”

Óin waved off the thanks. “G’on home now, someun’s tired, Ah think…”

In Glóin’s arms, Gimli was starting to yawn and blink, the day’s excitement proving too much at last.

The brothers exchanged a silent wave and a smile, and Glóin headed for home, his heart considerably lighter.

“Shhh, little Gim’,” he whispered to the sleeping babe. “Don’ tell yer mother abou’ this…”

**Author's Note:**

> Extreme medical license (medical NONSENSE more like) alert XD
> 
> 1\. Yes, I know how colds work, you can't catch a cold by just being cold :P but Gloin doesn't know that so...  
> 2\. I just really wanted Oin to freak out Gloin by saying 'mold' because...suddenly Middle Earth has penicillin? Sure, let's go with that.  
> 3\. In all honestly though, he probably just gave Gloin placebo pills just to give him SOME THING otherwise he's not going to calm down. Gimli is just going to be REALLY HYPER after his feeding times for the next couple days because of the extra sugar XD If it's a mild case, like it is here, sometimes it's better to just let the kid fight it off on their own, to build anti-bodies and such, I'm told. Let's just say that's what Oin is trying to do, but he just doesn't feel like explaining the whole concept of 'tiny bugs in your bloodstream' to his non-medically inclined brother. This is also assuming that Middle Earth has surprisingly advanced medicine...
> 
> It is late here, and I am tired, and I am rambling grievously now, and I am going to stop. I am so sorry XD


End file.
